Confession
by Justine Samulet Delarge
Summary: Sam admits to something he's been ashamed to say. Dean's reaction is more than he could have hoped for. Here there be Wincest. Mature readers only, please. I mean it.
1. Confession

Sam had had just enough to drink. Not enough to render the hydraulics inactive, so to speak, but enough to loosen his tongue. Loosen some of that stuff he kept unsaid, ashamed to speak it out loud.

Dean stretched out on the motel bed, blue light from the neon sign spilling in through a crack in the thin curtains.

Sam was straddling him, wearing only his threadbare sweats. It was a warm night, comfortable for lounging with their shirts off.

"Dean." Sammy started to speak, then paused.

Dean ran his hands over Sam's thighs and looked up at him, a questioning smile on his lips. He said nothing. Let the silence build, pushing Sam to make the confession he was aching to make.

"Dean. You know how... how we said it's because we love each other so fucking much? That... you know..." Oh, it must be good, if Sam was stumbling over his words.

""S'ok, sweetheart. You can tell me."

"I don't know." Sam ran his hand through his hair.

Dean pulled Sam down, rolled him onto his back, started toying with the tie on his sweatpants, letting his fingertips slip just beneath the band. Not close enough to touch. Close enough to tease.

"You can tell me."

Sam swallowed hard, eyes searching Dean's face for signs he was telling the truth.

"That we're together because we just love each other too much to NOT be. Right?"

"Yeah." It's a conversation they'd had a few times. To reassure each other they weren't starting this thing between them out of perversion, but out of love. The deep, _I'd die without you_ love they both felt for each other. Had felt as long as they could remember.

"Um...sometimes it's that and a little more. For me."

Dean stroked Sam's hair, brought his lips to Sam's mouth, kissed him so gently that Sam relaxed.

"Sometimes... I get off on it being you. I mean, on you being you. Being...being my brother."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Sam froze, muscles snapping tight.

"Oh god. I-"

Dean was on him like a man possessed, devouring Sam's mouth, licking into it with a long moan. "Fuck, Sammy..."

All Sam could do was kiss him back, let Dean do what he wanted. He had no other choice.

"Sam. Christ. You don't even know..." Dean straddled Sam, still kissing him furiously, hands roaming all over Sam's skin, grinding against Sam's leg.

"It's... that's ok?"

Dean kissed and bit the muscle that ran down Sam's neck to his shoulder, making him gasp. "Fuck yeah it is." He licked and nipped Sam's skin. "Baby brother."

Sam shivered all over.

Dean grinned. His smile somehow combined impossibly keen love and a dark desire. "Yeah. You like getting fucked by your big brother?"

Sam shook all over like an electric current was dancing through him. "Jesus. So much."

Dean ground his hips in a circle against Sam. "Say it." His voice was low, insistent.

"I... like getting fucked by my big brother."

Now it was Dean's turn to shudder, hissing against Sam's throat.

Sam's face broke into a smile of pure wonder. "You? You like it too?"

"What? Knowing that the man I love more than life itself is also my sweet little brother?" Dean brought his mouth right against Sam's right earlobe. "I fucking LOVE it, baby boy."

Sam moaned, grabbing for Dean frantically. "Shit. Dean. Need you inside me fucking yesterday."

Dean pulled his sweats off and had Sam out of his in seconds.

"Yeah?" Dean slid his hands up Sam's strong thighs, spreading them apart. "You need your big brother's cock in your ass?"

Sam was practically crying, shaking under Dean's touch. "Seriously, man, I'm gonna come any fucking second. C'mon."

Dean didn't really need to lube himself up since Sam was still nice and slick from Dean fucking him into the mattress no more than an hour before, but he did anyway, just to watch Sam's eyes get wider as he jacked his cock nice and slow.

"Christ. You can't get enough, can you."

"Dean. Please. Fuck me. Please."

Sam knew how much Dean loved it when he got this desperate and needy. Loved to hear Sammy beg for it.

"Shhh, little brother. Getting there."

Sam was shaking, literally shaking. Dean had never seen him like this.

He pressed himself to Sam's entrance and pushed inside, slowly.

Sam grabbed his hips, tried to make him move deeper, faster, but Dean stilled him. "Shhh... hey. Easy."

Sam swore, but tried to comply.

Dean slid inside him nice and slow, driving out all sorts of little breathy cries and groans from Sam. When he finally got all the way in, he leaned over Sam, kissed him slow and deep, and then started moving. Slow.

"Remember how Dad used to tell me to keep you in line when he was gone if you were bad?"

Sam trembled. Remembering.

"And Jesus. You were always doing things you weren't supposed to. I had to give you a spanking nearly every day sometimes."

Sam's hands roamed all over Dean's back, pleading for more. But Dean just fucked into Sam nice and slow.

"Bend you over my knee, light up your ass real good."

Sam's breath came in short, sharp snorts through his nose, in a riot of pleasure and memory.

Dean's mouth was warm against Sam's neck. "I got so fucking hard doing that to you, Sammy. So hard spanking my baby brother."

Sam was writhing now, pleading with his body.

"Once? Shit, once I even came in my jeans. The first time I pulled your pants down and you weren't wearing underwear. And I spanked you anyway."

Shivering, sweating, arching, spreading his legs wider, taking Dean so good.

Dean licked the sweat from the hollow of Sam's throat. "I wanted to fuck you so bad back then, Sammy."

And with that, Sam broke. He grabbed face with both hands, and begged. "Please, Dee, let me come, wanna come so hard on my big brother's dick, I'll let you spank me if you want, spank me and fuck me, just, oh god, please, let me come, Dee..."

And that was it. Little Sammy's nickname for Dean. Dean broke, raising up and slamming into Sam, fucking him hard and deep, a stream of sweet/filthy profanity flowing from his lips, Sam's upturned face drinking it in like rain. "Yeah, baby boy, taking your big brother's dick so good, come on, come for me, come for your fucking brother..."

Sam thrashed and cried out, coming with only the friction from Dean's hard belly on his cock, spilling slippery and wet between them, coming so hard he spattered against Dean's chin. Dean came at almost exactly the same moment, just a beat behind, feeling Sam's heat surrounding him, so tight, still so tight, so perfect for him, choking out Sam's name, nothing existing but his Sammy, coming inside him, becoming a part of him.

Before Sam even had a chance to formulate words, Dean's fingers were on his lips, softly hushing him. "Don't you dare."

Sam blinked rapidly.

"What we have? It's a thing of fucking beauty. You and me? We're right. This is right. Not a damn thing to be ashamed of." Dean pulled out reluctantly and lay beside Sam, pulling him into his arms. "It's the greatest love story never told."

Sam smiled.

"And so what if we both kinda like that we also happen to be brothers?" Dean ran his hand over Sam's chest, tracing the pattern of the tattoo. "Hell. We've saved the world how many times now? That means we have to be Boy Scouts?"

Sam made that gesture with his head that meant "You have a point."

"Dude. Suburban housewives get to get their freak on with their husbands. Strap one on and fuck them, get tied up. Swinger parties. You and me? We've got...you and me. Nothing wrong with us getting a little kinky too."

"We deserve it."

"Yeah we do." Dean kissed Sam, astonished as he always was at how perfect Sam's mouth felt. "So don't you obsess over this for a second. Got me?"

"Ok." Sam's face softened with relief.

They lay together, sweat cooling on their skin.

"Did you mean it?" Dean murmured.

"What?" Sam replied, voice slow with sleepiness.

"Letting me spank you and fuck you."

Sam snuggled closer. "Yup."

Dean stared up at the ceiling. "My life is awesome."

"But, like, tomorrow or something?"

"You a little sore, baby?"

Sam used to smack Dean for calling him pet names. But now he just snuggled closer. He loved it, and Dean knew it, and he couldn't front anymore.

"Little bit. But maybe I'll do something I shouldn't tomorrow. And you can keep me in line."

"You really do love me."

"Night, big brother."

"Night, baby boy."


	2. Exploration

Want me to talk? Ok. I'll talk. Gonna babble. I don't even know what I'm saying. Don't even know what I'm fucking saying. So crazy for you. That's what you do to me. You cock in my ass. Dean. Your hands on me. Fuck. Makes me lose my fucking mind. My big brother's cock in me, fucking me so good, making me do whatever you want. Making me come for you.

How long you been wanting this, Dean? How old were you, the first time you jacked off to thinking about fucking me? 17? 15? How long have you wanted this? 'Cause I've wanted you for fuckin' ever, Dean. Wanna know the first time? Maybe you don't. Might freak you out. Wanted you to fuck me for fuckin' ever, Dean. Thought about you. Pretended it was your hand on me. Your mouth on me. Your fingers in me, Dean. Fuck. Working me open. Getting me ready for you.

I used to fuck myself and think of you. Used my fingers. Used other stuff too. Yeah? You like that? I used to use the handle of my hairbrush. Stuck that up my ass, jacked off, pretended you were watching me, fucking screamed your name into the pillow. Dean. Dean. Dean. Always been you.

And when you used to spank me? When Dad was gone and I messed up? Even wonder why I messed up so much? Got me so hard, Dee. You spanking me. The way your voice sounded, all rough. I came so fast after you left. Barely even had to touch myself. God, I wanted to come right on your knee. Underwear pulled down. Come all over your leg. But I was scared. So scared you'd freak out. But holy shit, Dean, I was fucking crazy for you. Wanted you to finger me and spank me at the same time. Wanted you to tell me to beg you to fuck me. I would have. God, I would have. Would have fucked myself on your fingers and taken your spanking, real hard. So hard. Hard enough to make me cry. Promise to be a good boy. Come all over you. But only when you said. Only when you said.

I knew you liked it. I fucking knew it. Pulling down my pants and smacking my bare ass. That why you did it so much? Get me all bright red and squirming for you? Always knew you wanted more. Wanted me to spread my legs for you, let you smack me good, get me to cry and beg.

It felt so good. Loved you doing that. Keeping me in line. Wanted to ride your cock while you spanked me. Make it feel so good and hurt so much, all at the same time. Wanted you to see how much I'd take for you. Show you how bad I wanted it. God, Dee, I wanted you to make me your little slut. Just for you. Make me do anything. You wouldn't even believe the shit that was in my head. Stuff I thought up back then. I used to imagine it. How I'd get naked for you, jack off for you, fuck my ass raw with a toy while you watched, crawl to you on my hands and knees, suck you off, swallow every drop, get you hard again, spread my ass for you, beg my big brother to fuck me. Beg for you to just kiss me. Fuck. Because there's nothing better, Dean. Nothing better in this world than how you kiss me. How you fuck me. Only ever gonna be you, ever again. Just you. I belong to you. Nobody's ever gonna make me come but you. All of this. All for you. All the working out. All the weights. All to make me look good for you. Make you want me more.

'Cause I'm yours. So take me. Take it. Come inside me. That's what I'm for, Dean. For you."

Dean remembered what Sam said. And he said nothing until one evening, after Sam had let a baddie slip past him, and the creature had hit Dean hard enough to draw blood. Sam was, of course, mortified and devastated, and kept apologizing.

Dean shut the motel room door and drew the chain. Sam was pale, shaky. "I'm so sorry, Dean." Sam sat on the bed-for-gear and pulled off his boots and socks.

Dean looked at him steadily. "You messed up, Sammy."

Sam straightened up, and stared at Dean, big brown eyes wide.

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched in the way it did when he looked at something he wanted bad. Like his Baby. Or Sam, naked and spread out for him.

Sam's breathing came a little faster. "I… what?"

Dean chewed on his lower lip. "You messed up back there. Can't have that. It's been way too long since I kept you in line, huh?"

Messed up. Keep you in line. This was code, disused code from when they were teenagers and Dean had to discipline Sammy when Dad was away.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here, Sammy."

Sam was frozen in place, eyes locked onto Dean.

"You know how this works, Sammy. You come over here and lay yourself out on my lap and take it all like a good boy, I'll go a little easier on you. You make me drag you over here and hold you down, I'll beat your sweet little ass so hard you'll have to sleep on your stomach for a week. And you know damn well I'll do it."

Sam did. Sam remembered how Dean would use his belt on Sam, leave welts and bruises that Sam would feel for days afterward, would run his fingers over and press until he gasped.

Sam got to his feet, and walked to Dean. With shaking fingers, Sam undid the buttons of his jeans and shoved his pants down to his ankles. Dean tilted his head and said nothing, but Sam understood, and turned bright red. He pulled his underwear down too.

Dean whistled. "Goddamn. Look at that." Sam's cock was painfully engorged, the head deep red. "Already bursting out of your skin."

Sam blushed.

"Come here."

Sam laid himself out across Dean's lap, awkwardly, since he was twice the size he was the last time they did this. When his cock touched Dean's thigh, he inhaled sharply.

"Oh, Sammy…you've missed this. Haven't you?"

"Yes," Sam whispered, head hanging down.

Dean gripped his hair and pulled his head up. "Louder."

"Yes. I missed this." Sam's voice was louder.

Dean glanced to his left. "Nice. I can see your face in the mirror like that." He tightened his fingers in Sam's hair until he hissed. "Two rules. Number one, you take everything I give you, and don't try to cover your ass with your hands. Number two, you keep your head up so I can watch your face in the mirror. Got it?"

"Yeah." Sam was already trembling.

Dean leaned down and whispered in Sam's ear, "You do that for me, and I'll let you come while I spank you." Sam shuddered.

"Goddamn. You really did want it bad, didn't you. All those times." Sam's breathing came fast, like he was on the verge of coming practically untouched. "I did too, Sammy. Wanted to touch you. And now I can."

Sam arched his back, pushing his bare ass up. "Do it, Dee. Need you to do it."

"Yeah you do." Dean's hand fell hard against Sam's smooth ass, leaving an immediate handprint, white at first, then filling in red. "Need your big brother to spank you. Hard, right?" He swatted Sam again, his palm making a sharp crack.

"Yes. Please. Spank me hard." Sam dropped his head for a split second, then remembered and held it up again.

"Good boy." Dean spanked Sam nice and hard, covering his ass and the back of his thighs with palm prints, putting more muscle into it. He watched Sam's face in the mirror, each grimace and gasp sending a stab of almost unbearable pleasure through him. "Pain looks good on you, baby boy."

Sam moaned in response, grinding his hips against Dean.

"Yeah. Come on, Sam. Rub your cock on me. Like you wanted to all those times. Fucking hump my leg while I spank your ass cherry red."

Sam sobbed, and obeyed.

"I bet my jeans are all rough on your cock, huh, Sammy." Sam nodded frantically. "Good. Hurts a little. That's what you deserve for messing up." Dean's hand fell hard and fast now, spanking Sam's ass without mercy. Tears spilled down Sam's face, carefully tipped up toward the mirror. His hands scrabbled at the bedspread.

"Starting to really sting now, huh, Sammy? Bet you wish you could grab your ass and stop me, right? Is that what you want to do? Make me stop?"

Sam shook his head no, and dropped his hands back down.

Dean paused long enough to draw his fingertip across the tight pink rink of Sam's asshole. "God, you're gonna feel so good under me when I fuck you into the mattress. Skin all hot against mine."

The sound Sam made was half-sob, half-growl. "But first, baby boy." Dean resumed the spanking. "First, I'm gonna spank you until you come all over my leg." He let loose with a sharp volley of smacks that had Sam howling. "Yeah. Amazing how much I can make it hurt with just my hand, isn't it?"

He smoothed his hand over Sam's ass, and pushed against it, making Sam rotate his pelvis against him. "Come on, little brother. Ride my leg."

Sam pumped his hips, rubbing his cock against Dean's thigh, face flickering with pain and pleasure. "

"You liked the belt, but I think you loved this best. Just my hand. You on my lap. Bare ass exposed. Trying to hide that you were hard."

Dean centered his smacks on Sam's ass, now a brilliant red. "But I knew, Sammy. And I knew what you did after I finished spanking you, left you on your bed, crying, with your pants pulled down." His hand punished Sam mercilessly now, driving sharp cries out of him, tears running down his face. "I used to stand outside the door and listen."

Sam's hips pumped frantically, his mouth open, face bright red.

"My sweet baby brother… ass all red… fucking his fist. Whispering my name into the pillow..."

Dean's hand was on fire, but he wouldn't have stopped if the Apocalypse happened. "I didn't even touch you, Sammy, but all those times, I was the one making you come. You came for me."

And at that, Sam cried out, writhing, hips stuttering against Dean's thigh, soaking his jeans.

"Good boy. So good. So beautiful. Sammy. Fuck." Sam had barely finished coming when Dean dragged him up into a fierce kiss, fisting his cock, wringing out an aftershock nearly as intense as the first orgasm, sucking the whimpers and cries from Sam's mouth. Then Sam found himself face-first on the mattress, Dean's hands hauling his hips back, the sound of lube squirted from the large bottle always kept on the bedside table, and then Dean worked his cock into Sam. Sam opened to him gradually but easily, taking him in, giving Dean what he needed.

"Sam." Half-gasp, half-prayer. "Wanted this. Wanted to do this. Always wanted you. Just you. Wish it had only ever been you." Dean fucked into Sam, grinding against him, short strokes so he could keep the skin contact. "Fuck. Your ass is so fucking hot. Sammy." His voice rose, took on that desperate tone he made when he was about to come, like he was taken by surprise by how intense the pleasure of it was. Sweat sheened his skin, his scent becoming sharper. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

Sam pushed back into Dean. "Yours. Dean. Always yours. Always been yours."

Dean roared out his orgasm, convulsed with the force of it, falling forward, gripping Sam's shoulders, side of his face pressed against Sam's back. When he had caught his breath, he pulled out of Sam slowly, stripped off their clothes, positioned Sam on his side so his sore flesh wasn't pressed into the mattress, and wrapped his arms around him. He wiped the tears from Sam's face and kissed him, so soft and sweet that it brought fresh tears to Sam's eyes. "My Sammy."

After a long moment, Dean stroked his hand down Sam's back and came to rest gently on his ass. "You alright?"

"Better than alright." Sam rubbed his nose against Dean's throat. "You could do that again sometime. If you want. Not even as a punishment or anything. Just 'cause we like it."

Dean lay back against the pillow, eyes crinkling with the force of his grin, pulling Sam even closer. "Somebody up there likes me. They really, really like me."

After that, things got a little crazy.

More specifically, Sam went a little crazy for Dean spanking him, and Dean went a little crazy giving it to him.

They didn't bother with the ruse that it was about punishment. It hardly ever had been in the first place. No, Dean spanked Sam because he loved to do it, and because Sam loved to take it.

He really loved to take it.

A lighthearted smack on the ass, to make Sam shove over in the shower and make room for Dean, turned into Sam pressing his mouth against the wet tiles, moaning, as Dean soaped up his ass and spanked his ass cheeks, working his cock with the other hand until he shot all over the wall, then Sam sinking to his knees gratefully and sucking all the fluid out of Dean's body through his cock.

One day, Dean found a large wooden hairbrush with a curved handle, while they were out. They were both barely able to restrain themselves until they got back to the motel. Dean made Sam strip naked, hold the brush in his mouth, crawl across the carpet to him sitting in the reclining chair. Made Sam straddle him facing away from him and lower his upper body to the floor, his muscular thighs on either side of Dean's lap, his cock nestled in Dean's crotch, his perfect ass on display. Dean spanked Sam with the hairbrush until he was writhing and sobbing, pumping his hips in circles, toes curling, and begging Dean so pretty to let him come. And Dean did. He made Sam get on the bed, made him show Dean what he used to do when he was a teenager, made him shove the handle of the hairbrush up his ass and jack off until he came screaming Dean's name, staring into Dean's rapt eyes the whole time;. Then Dean fucked Sam so slow and sweet, rocking into him for over an hour, grinding into him like it was an art form, kissing him, running his hands all over Sam's body, teasing his fingertips along every muscle, line, curve and indentation. Sam sighed and relaxed, swelled and hardened, gasped and praised Dean with his body and his voice, and finally begged to come again, and begged, and begged until his voice grew hoarse.

And then Dean let him come, and came himself at the exact same time.

Yeah, they both really liked this whole spanking deal.

One afternoon, after yet another witness interview requiring Fed suits, the itch hit Dean before they'd even left the middle-aged librarian's house.

They got into the Impala and headed out onto the highway back to where they were staying. They drove through an area lined with trees. There weren't many cars on the road, but there were some. When Dean spied a space with a gravel-free flat spot, he pulled over.

Sam gave him a confused look.

"Stay where you are." Dean walked around the car, grabbed a towel out of the trunk, opened the right side door to the back seat, and then opened Sam's door. He dropped the towel on the ground in front of Sam's door, then walked back and sat down in the driver's seat again.

"What—"

"Kneel on the towel. Facing me." The tone of Dean's voice was enough to give away that whatever he had in mind, Sam would like it. So he obeyed. He climbed out and knelt on the towel.

"Pull your pants down. Underwear too."

"But Dean—"

"Do it."

Sam obeyed. His body was shielded from view on both sides by the open doors. The only thing anyone could see, if they slowed way down and stared, was Sam's lower legs and shoes.

"Lean forward on the seat." Sam lowered himself and stretched out on the seat, ass bare.

When Dean removed his belt, Sam groaned.

"Fuck. Dean. Oh my god."

"Feel good, Sammy? Feel that sun on your ass? Feel the breeze on your cock?"

"Yeah. Christ. Dean."

"Now lay there and take it." Dean wrapped the belt around his hand until it was just the right length, and still fully clothed in his Fed suit, jacket and tie and all, he leaned across the seat and swung the belt down hard on Sam's ass.

Sam cried out, hands scrabbling on Dean's thigh.

"You like that, baby boy?"

"Oh god. Oh god." Sam went from zero to 200 in exactly the time it had taken Dean to get this rolling. He squirmed and arched up into each lick of the belt. "Fuck. Dean. More. Harder. Dean. Please."

"God, you love it. Can't get enough of you, Sammy. The way you move. Look at you. Begging for it." Dean strapped Sam with the belt again and again, driving guttural cries out of him. A car passed in the other direction, slowing slightly.

"I think maybe they saw you, Sammy."

Sam moaned and clutched Dean's thigh, thrusting his hips back and up, raising his ass higher into the punishing strokes of the belt.

"Ah. You liked that. Want people to watch me beat your ass red?"

Sam's response was wordless sounds of pleasure.

"Don't tempt me, Sammy. I'll do it." Dean snapped the belt again and again. "Find the right kind of club. Take you there. Spank you raw in front of everybody." Dean's voice dropped lower. "And I'll fuck you. While they watch."

And Sam came. Nothing touching his cock other than warm sunlight and a gentle breeze. Came hard, spurting onto the towel beneath his knees, hand squeezing Dean's thigh, chanting his name.

A shaking hand on a zipper, his wet mouth on Dean's cock, and within seconds, Dean was spilling into his brother's mouth, hands seizing the steering wheel in a death grip.

Sam closed the back seat door with a gentle kick, and dragged himself into the car.

"I don't even know how I got this lucky." Dean helped Sam put himself back together. "But anything you ever want, Sam. Anything."

Dean pulled back out onto the road, and steered the car towards their temporary home. Sam alternated staring at Dean and out the window, blissed out and sated.

Dean loved that only he got to put that look on Sam's face.

Dean stumbled across the door sill, post-coital sleepiness taking hold. "Nap. Burgers. Shower. Not in that order."

Sam stripped off his tie and tossed it on the table. "So… anything?"

Dean sprawled on the bed, digging at his tie. "Anything." He stared up at Sam, who had a positively wanton grin on his face. "Why? Watcha got in mind?"

Sam unbuttoned his white Fed shirt at the wrists, then down the front. Slowly. He slid it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "Fuck me. " He ran his palm down his chest and stomach, coming to rest on the button of his pants, watching Dean's pupils go wide. "While they watch."


	3. Exhibition

It took a while to find the right place at the right time. Dean surreptitiously did some digging at every place they stopped on their hunts, but didn't find one that fit the criteria.

Eventually, he came across a bar in a university town. Checked it out while Sam was running down a lead. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

"What's gotten into you?" Sam finished the last of his salad.

Dean popped another French fry into his mouth and sent Sam another one of those cryptic, knowing looks.

"Not telling. Not yet."

Sam blew out an exasperated breath. "Fine. Be that way."

"I will." Dean ate another fry, watching Sam's mouth.

Sam could read the sexual heat coming off Dean. Hell, everyone in the diner could. It radiated off him in waves. But Dean wouldn't yield.

For the rest of the afternoon, he couldn't stop touching Sam, even when it was inappropriate, like interviewing the leads Sam had tracked down, two women who ran a doggie day care business out of a suburban home. In the middle of the younger woman's explanation of the strange, sharp-toothed creature she'd seen in the neighborhood, Dean put his hand on Sam's thigh and caressed it like no Federal agent should rub another Federal agent in public. He didn't even know he was doing it until the woman stopped mid-sentence, and he noticed Sam staring at him like he'd just sprouted a third arm.

Dean, remarkably, managed to play it off seamlessly. "My apologies, ma'am." His voice was gentle and apologetic. "Agent Malmsteen is my partner, but he's also my…partner." He cast his eyes down, long lashes framed against his skin, looking impossibly vulnerable. "I—" He faltered.

"Don't you dare apologize." The older woman brushed her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward earnestly. "You're with allies here."

Sam didn't bring it up until they had concluded the interview and got back in the car. "Dude. Are you going to tell me what's up or what?"

Dean stared at Sam, so proper in his Fed suit, and got a full-body shiver at the plan of what he had in store for him that night.

"Got something special planned for you, baby boy."

Sam's eyes went wide.

"And you're gonna love it."

Back in the motel room, Dean smacked Sam on the ass lightly. "Do you want to shower first?"

Sam stilled, biting his lip. That was code for when Sam liked to shower by himself so he could use the special tube and nozzle to get himself clean deep inside. For when they were going to be spending a lot of time doing delicious things to Sam's ass.

"You go first." Sam's voice was hushed, thick with anticipation.

Dean showered fast, and kissed Sam as they passed in the doorway. It was all he could do to refrain from just getting started right there. But he had plans.

When Sam finally emerged from the shower, shaved and squeaky clean, Dean was all dressed and ready to go, in black jeans, and a nice dark green shirt with buttons that set off his eyes so well, it made Sam stop in his tracks and stare, transfixed.

"Get dressed, Sam."

Dean had laid out his clothes for him. Black jeans, a grey beater, and a black jacket.

Sam blinked, trying to figure out what the plan was by that little clue.

He dressed quickly. When he went to button the jacket, Dean laid his fingers over Sam's. "Leave it open."

Dean drove them to a part of town they hadn't been to before, a commercial district with warehouses, a few restaurants, and some nightclubs. He parked the Impala on a side street and, holding Sam's hand, let him toward a club with a black and white sign out front that read simply, "The Stud."

Sam stopped dead.

Dean didn't tug. Didn't force Sam. Just stood next to him, so close Sam could feel his body heat, smell the cologne he'd put on. Just looked into Sam's face, green eyes so clear and hopeful. "S this ok, Sammy?"

The color rose in Sam's cheeks. "Yeah." He swallowed hard, leaning in toward Dean, placing his hand on Dean's neck. "This is ok."

Dean's voice was just above a whisper. "We'll only do what you want. Ok? As much as you want to do."

Sam's mouth twitched. "Promise?"

Dean nodded. "Promise."

They went inside the club. It was busy, filled with men. Men in jeans and no t-shirt, leather fetish wear, regular clothes, and attire that looked like it would fit right in at Burning Man.

Every eye was on them as they entered. In a room full of beautiful men, Sam and Dean Winchester still stood out.

Dean made it abundantly clear from his body language that Sam was with him. He brought Sam to the bar and ordered four double shots of whiskey.

Sam's eyebrows went up. "Trying to get me sloppy drunk so my inhibitions are gone?"

Dean swiped his tongue over his lower lip. "Um, yeah."

Sam watched Dean's mouth, his own lips parting.

The bartender put down the four shots. "There you go, sweetheart."

Sam picked up the first shot glass. "Well, ok then." He downed it, wincing almost imperceptibly, and then picked up the other and knocked it back just as fast.

Dean was not one to be outdone by his little brother, and put his shots back with practiced efficiency. He slid two twenties to the bartender.

The bartender beamed. "You two are going to be my favorite customers tonight."

Dean gave him a look. "You have no idea."

They were well acquainted with the contents of a whiskey bottle, Sam and Dean, but still, the heat tickled at their insides, loosened what needed loosening. It wasn't long before they started feeling it.

"Everyone's looking at you, Sammy." And they were. Eyes surveying them with appreciation, approval, outright lust.

Sam suddenly started like he'd had an epiphany. "I can kiss you."

Dean laughed hard. "That's part of the plan."

"No, I mean, I can kiss you here, and not get my ass kicked." He leaned close, placed his hands on Dean's cheeks, and brought Dean's face to his.

Sam kissed Dean like it was the first time their lips had ever touched. The kiss was reverent, grateful, his mouth brushing Dean's like it was something rare and precious. The men grinding on each other, playing pool, even the go-go dancers in furry boots and g-strings, every one of them turned to watch.

Sam curled his back and pressed in closer, his mouth claiming Dean's, his massive hand slipping around the back of Dean's head. Dean raising up into the kiss. Sam pulled back just long enough to look into Dean's eyes, rub the thumb of his other hand over Dean's lower lip. Then he brought his mouth back down, harder this time, insistent. Dean's lips parted for Sam, moaning so soft at the first soft brush of his tongue, his hand sliding up under Sam's shirt.

The feel of Dean's fingers on his bare flesh spurred Sam on, kissing him with greater intensity, hand gripping Dean's ass and pulling him close, insinuating his thigh between Dean's legs.

Dean arched into it, ghosting his fingers over the sleek skin of Sam's back. Sam gasped into Dean's mouth.

They both pulled back at the same time. Sam braced his forehead against Dean's and laughed weakly.

The men at the bar broke into applause. The bartender clapped the loudest.

Sam grinned, his face getting pinker. But somehow he did not look embarrassed.

A dark-haired man approached them, wearing a beautiful purple long-sleeved shirt, leather pants and boots, and an elaborate necklace. "You two are a breathtakingly beautiful couple."

Dean cocked his head. "My better half." Sam rolled his eyes.

"My name is Richard. This is my establishment. May I buy you a drink?"

Sam nodded.

"What's your flavor?"

"Bourbon." Sam and Dean spoke in unison.

"Too fucking adorable."

Dean frowned. He hated being called adorable—by anyone but Sam. Richard nodded to the bartender. Dean did not frown any more when he unlocked a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle.

The bartender poured a generous amount of bourbon into three tumblers. Sam and Dean drank at the same time, their eyes flashing wide at the first sip. "Damn." Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Like I said. You two are a beautiful couple. Would you care to join me?"

Richard led them into a private room in the back, with its own bouncer.

Inside were men even more impressive to look at than out front. Couples and trios sitting on couches with their arms around each other, sitting at a gorgeous antique mahogany bar, pressed up against each other leaning against the wall.

Again, all eyes turned to Sam and Dean.

Richard led them to a plush couch on the side of the room, letting them sit next to each other and sitting down next to Sam.

Dean took another sip of the legendary, impossible to find bourbon and sighed with pleasure.

Richard smiled, and turned to Sam. "If you're warm, we could find a place for your jacket."

Dean watched Sam's face.

Sam peeled the jacket off slowly, eyes locked on Dean.

When the jacket was off, revealing Sam in the grey beater, Richard made a little sound barely audible over the soft music.

Dean ran his hand up Sam's bare arm, making Sam shiver.

"Isn't he a responsive one?" Richard sipped his bourbon.

Dean searched Sam's face, slipping his hand into Sam's. Sam blinked once, slowly and squeezed Dean's hand. Dean turned to Richard, green eyes glinting in the light. "Yeah he is. Wanna see?"

They finished their bourbon. Slowly. Dean's fingers tracing along Sam's bare arms, across his chest. When they got to his neck, Sam trembled visibly.

Richard's mouth parted slightly.

They finished their drinks and set the tumblers down on the side table.

"You ok, Sammy?"

Sam bit his lip and nodded.

Dean tugged gently at the hem of the beater. Sam pulled it off over his head.

Somewhere, someone said, "Jesus fucking CHRIST."

Sam blushed, keeping his gaze locked on Dean.

"Sam. Kiss me."

Sam leaned in, brought his mouth to Dean's. Dean licked the taste of bourbon off the seam of his lips, delved deeper, licking it out of his mouth.

Sam moaned.

Dean kissed him deeper, running his hands over Sam's bare back. When he dragged his nails lightly all the way down, Sam squirmed.

Dean twined his fingers into Sam's belt and tugged him closer, making Sam straddle him. He brought Sam close, whispered in his ear. "They're all watching you, Sammy." Sam made a little sound. "Losing their fucking minds at how beautiful you are. They wish they were me so bad right now, Sammy. You can tell by their faces." He stroked Sam's flank. "You gonna show 'em you're mine?"

Sam blew out a sharp breath through his nose. "Yeah."

"Come on, baby boy. Show 'em how bad you want me."

Sam sat up and ran his hands down his chest, grinding against Dean, making him bite his lip at the feel of Sam's cock practically bursting out of his jeans. "Yeah, sweetheart. There you go."

Sam undulated on Dean's lap, body rolling fluid and supple, muscles popping out in sequence. He closed his eyes, stroking his hand down his stomach, and opened them again with a little smile for Dean, like he was starting to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him. Like he was starting to like it.

Sam leaned forward and began kissing Dean again, loose and pliant, breathing in the scent of his cologne, moaning into Dean's mouth softly. Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's face and kissed back, deep and avid, rocking up into Sam's grinding hips.

Sam moaned louder.

Richard made a signal with his hands. The music stopped.

"You like that, Sammy?" Dean's voice rang through the quiet room.

Sam practically sobbed, "Yeah."

"You know everyone is watching you, right?"

Again, a near-sob. "Yeah."

"You want more?"

This time, Sam's voice was low, rough. Demanding. "Yes."

"Tell me."

Sam swayed a little in Dean's lap. "What you said."

Dean's smile was wicked. "What'd I say?"

"That you'd spank my ass raw in front of everyone. And fuck me while they watched."

Someone dropped a glass, shattering on the floor.

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at their host. "Your club, man. How far can we run with this?"

Richard raised his glass. "By all means. Give the boy what he wants."

Dean traced his fingertips across Sam's chest lightly, dropped them to his nipples and pinched them. Sam made a little sound, leaned back and bracing his hands behind him on Dean's knees, offering himself to Dean.

Dean pinched harder. Sam shuddered, biting his lip.

Harder.

Sam was panting, arching up into it. Murmurs from the crowd.

Harder.

Sam cried out, but didn't pull away.

Dean released his grip, pulled Sam up, devoured his mouth, stroking his hair. "So good for me, Sammy. So fucking good."

Sam basked in the praise.

Dean pulled back, eyeing Sam's mouth, looking back up into Sam's eyes. He didn't even have to say it. Sam was sliding off his lap, kneeling before him. "Dean."

Dean unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans and pulled his cock free. Someone whistled. Dean blushed. But within a half a second, he forgot all about that because Sam's mouth was on him, warm and wet.

Sam was sucking his cock in front of God and everyone.

Dean was SO not going to last.

He let his head fall back against the back of the couch with a groan.

Richard was right there next to him, not touching. Careful not to touch. But he brought his glass of Pappy Van Winkle to Dean's mouth, tipping the bourbon into Dean's mouth. The liquid flowed over his tongue as Sam lapped at his cock. Dean swallowed and erupted in a full-body shiver. "Jesus, Sammy, not gonna last…"

Sam looked up at him, eyes huge and dark, and sucked his cock like it's all he ever wanted. Richard brought the glass to Dean's lips again. "Come on. Come for us."

Dean took the whiskey into his mouth, held it there, hands reaching for Sam's, gripping his thighs hard. Sam grabbed onto his forearms, his hands latching onto Sam's. Sam sealed his mouth around the head of his cock and sucked hard.

Dean swallowed the whiskey and cried out, hips bucking as he came hard and long.

Sam swallowed the come Dean gave him, moaning at the taste, sucking softer to kick off some aftershocks, lapping up the extra drops come he urged out of him.

Sam held Dean in his mouth gently, careful not to overstimulate him. Dean stroked his hair, and glanced up. They were surrounded by a circle of men, not leering or eyeing them lasciviously, but staring at them in awe and wonder.

Sam let Dean's softening cock slip out of his mouth. "You promised."

Dean sat up, pulled Sam to his feet and stood.

Dean reached for Sam's belt, undid it, pulled it free of the belt loops. He pressed his hand against Sam's cock, straining beneath the denim. Sam whined, pushing his hips forward. Dean chuckled. "So needy." He reached for the buttons of Sam's jeans.

"Here we go," someone said. "Shh," someone else replied.

Dean undid the zipper and pulled Sam's jeans down to just below the bottom curve of his ass. Sam's massive cock was freed, gloriously erect and huge.

"You owe me fifty bucks," someone muttered.

Dean ran his hand over the sleek curve of Sam's ass. "You're sure, Sammy?"

Sam's pupils were dilated, his mouth parted, his breath came fast and shallow. "Dean. Please."

"I want you naked."

Sam closed his eyes and groaned. Then he took his boots off.

"Come on, baby boy."

Sam looked over his shoulder at the people assembled around him, for the first time. His mouth curled into a little smile. Dean stood right up against him, his body touching Sam's. He put his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam peeled his jeans off, watching everyone watching him.

"Good boy."

Sam gasped. He was totally naked, rock hard, in front of a bunch of strangers.

"They love it. Love looking at you." Dean stroked Sam's back. "You like them looking at you?"

Sam's voice was hushed. "Yeah."

Dean had a sudden idea. "Touch yourself." He moved his hand to the back of Sam's hair, wrapped his fingers in it, tightening ever so slightly. "Give them a good show."

Sam took his cock in his right hand and began working it slow. More than one person in the crowd groaned audibly.

"Yeah." "Jack it." "Harder."

Dean moved to stand right behind Sam, pressed up against him tight. He wrapped his arms around Sam's chest, playing with his nipples, talking in his ear. "There you go, baby boy. So good. You love them watching you. I fucking knew you would. Christ, so fucking hot. Wanted to do this for so long. Come on, fuck your fist." Dean tugged on Sam's nipples and brought his mouth right next to the sensitive spot behind Sam's right ear. "Such a good little slut for me."

And Sam arched his back, throwing his head back against Dean, fisting his cock furiously, surprised that he was coming, and coming so hard. And so much.

More than one man was on his knees in front of another man now, unable to merely be spectators in the face of the searing hotness that was Sam and Dean gone slutty and feral.

"Sam. Sammy. So good. Yeah. Come for me. So fucking beautiful when you come." Dean coaxed a massive aftershock out of Sam with just his voice.

He murmured praise, brushing his soft mouth against the back of Sam's neck, making him shiver.

"If you want, we can go home now."

Sam spun around, threw his arms around Dean. "You promised. You promised."

"I love you so much, I can't even… fuck, Sammy."

And Sam, his beautiful slutty Sam, leaned forward, bracing his palms against the back of the couch, that beautiful ass on display for Dean, looked back over his shoulder and said, "Do it."


	4. Communion (Final chapter)

Dean ran his palm over the soft skin of Sam's ass. Sam pushed back against Dean's hand. "Don't fucking tease me. Come on."

Dean laid a hard smack down. "Bossy."

Richard, the club owner, raised his finger, a strangely polite gesture for the events unfolding before him, and whispered into Dean's ear. Dean listened, and after a moment he smiled. "Yeah."

Richard rose and walked quickly toward the back of the room.

Dean leaned close. "See, Sam, like this, you're right against the wall. Everyone'll have a real nice view of me spanking your ass nice and red, but they can't see your face."

Sam made a needy little sound. Dean's answer was a low, throaty chuckle. "Yeah. Thought so. We're gonna take care of you, baby boy."

Sounds behind them, as several men pulled a long, backless sectional couch close to them, with room on all sides. Dean gathered Sam's clothes and boots and brought them to the couch, leading Sam with one hand.

Without a word of directive, Sam crawled onto the couch and got on his hands and knees, thighs spread wide. Dean walked around, unbuttoning a button on his shirt, mouth twitching like he meant business. He positioned himself behind Sam, slightly to the side.

They were quickly surrounded.

At the first impact of Dean's hand, Sam closed his eyes and dropped his head. Dean tsked, and tangled the fingers of his other hand in Sam's hair, pulling back so his head was forced up. "Missing the whole point of moving you over here, sweetheart."

He brought his hand down again. This time, Sam's face was exposed for all to see the expressions flickering across it.

Dean didn't mess around. This wasn't a tentative spanking. He brought his hand down hard, making Sam's ass quiver with each impact, staining his skin pink immediately. He kept his hand tight in Sam's hair, head up high, for several minutes, then released him when Sam started to really squirm and sweat. He shook his right hand out from the sting on his own skin, and caught side of Sam's belt on the floor.

Rubbing his hand soothingly over Sam's ass, turned a uniform shade of pink, he picked up the belt. Doubling it over, he held it over the back of Sam's neck and snapped it together.

Sam jumped at the loud crack, looking over his shoulder at Dean. His eyes were huge, pupils blown wide, lips reddened from sucking Dean's cock, and biting his lower lip.

Dean's smile was full of love and dark promise.

Sam groaned and dropped his chest to the couch, sticking his ass up in the air and spreading his legs wider.

A murmur went through the crowd.

Dean wrapped the belt around his hand until just the right length was sticking out. He leaned close and whispered in Sam's ear, "This reminds me of when we were teenagers." _You messed up, Sammy. Dad said I gotta keep you in line_.

Sam writhed on the couch. "Jesus. Gonna die if you don't fucking do it. Now."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So. Fucking. Bossy." With that, he brought the belt down. "Gonna have to beat that right out of you, baby boy." Again. And again. He kept his hand on the small of Sam's back, both of them needing that constant contact.

Sam cried out as the belt striped his ass and thighs, hands scrabbling at the fabric of the couch, grabbing at nothing.

Richard's voice, silky and amused. "He's a puller."

Dean's gaze was suddenly on Richard.

"He wants to have something to pull on. It helps. And it feels good."

Dean suddenly remembered the countless times he'd seen Sam do that in the throes of intense pleasure or the little pain games they liked to play sometimes, scrabbling with his hands, gripping the bedclothes, pulling the sheets off the bed. Something to pull on. He filed that away for future reference and exploitation as soon as humanly fucking possible. But there was nothing for Sam to pull on at the moment. Sam would just have to claw at the couch.

And he clawed so beautifully, arching his back into each lick of the belt, back bowing as the pain flared through him, his cock heavy and hard bobbing between his legs. He was a thing of feral beauty, spread wide for Dean, drinking down the pain/pleasure of it, reveling in all eyes on him, watching him give himself to Dean entirely.

Dean strapped Sam good and hard, just like he promised. Smacked his ass raw, everyone watching slack-jawed as Sam's body jolted when the leather kissed his flesh, listening rapt to every cry and groan and sobbing plea for more, every "Yes" and "please" and "oh god." The pain made Sam even more wanton, kicking his responsiveness into overdrive, chasing off any shred of shyness or self-consciousness. He gyrated his hips under the blows, throwing his hair back, sitting up on his knees and lacing his fingers together at the nape of his neck in a position of surrender.

Dean groaned at the sight, slipping his hand around Sam's chest, pressing his lips to Sam's neck. "So good for me, Sammy. Taking it so fucking good." He rolled his fingertips over Sam's left nipple, pinching hard. Sam arched into it, muttering, "Dean. Dean."

Dean dropped the belt, and caressed Sam's ass, bright red and hot to the touch. Sam hissed.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of lube. He kneeled on the couch behind Sam, squirted some onto his hand and slicked up Sam's cock, pulling Sam tight against him with his left hand on his chest. He worked his right hand on Sam's cock slowly. Sam leaned his head back against Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes, shuddering with pleasure.

"Look at them." Dean's voice was insistent.

Sam opened his eyes, and looked at the men standing before him, watching him. He moaned.

"You like that."

Sam chewed on his lip, and nodded his assent.

"They can't wait for me to fuck you. Look at them. Fucking dying for it. Can't wait for me to work you on my cock until you're screaming."

Sam's breath came hard and fast.

"Come on, baby. I'm tired of doing all the work. Fuck my fist." Dean's voice was soft, loving, but not to be refused.

Sam pumped his hips forward.

"There you go." Dean held his fist steady as Sam thrust into his clenched fingers, pulled back with a groan, lunged forward again. And suddenly Sam was looking into the eyes of each man in turn, feeding off what he saw in their eyes as they watched him, fucking Dean's fist shamelessly, making the most delicious, wanton sounds.

"My pretty little slut. Doing so good for me, baby. So good." Sam gasped, pumping his hips harder, and whined when Dean released his hold. "Shhh… want you to come on my cock."

"Oh god. Oh god. Please."

"Louder."

"Please fuck me, oh god, please, need your cock in me so bad, oh god, please, Dean, please fuck me…"

The most beautiful sound in this or any world was Sam Winchester moaning Dean's name in that soft, broken voice.

Dean turned Sam around, claimed his mouth in a kiss that left Sam breathless. Then he lay Sam down on his back.

Sam spread himself open to Dean, thighs wide apart, huge eyes locked on Dean's, mouth slightly open. So open. So vulnerable and exposed. Giving himself entirely to Dean, holding nothing back, letting everyone see.

Sam shook under his touch.

"You really love this, don't you. People watching us."

Sam brought his hand up to cradle Dean's face. "We've had to hide this our whole lives."

Dean closed his eyes. He understood now.

Suddenly Dean felt ashamed. Ashamed that he was still fully dressed. That he'd asked Sam to give him everything, and that he'd given so little in return.

He undid his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He stood and removed his boots and socks, just like Sam had done, and tugged off his jeans, standing naked in front of God and everyone.

Another murmur from the crowd. Sam stared up at him in surprise.

Dean knelt on the couch, stroking his hands slowly up Sam's thighs, exquisitely slowly, as if the feel of Sam's skin on his hands was intensely pleasurable. Because it was.

He stroked Sam everywhere, slowly, branding every inch of his skin with love, love for what Sam had just done for him. Giving him this unexpected gift, when here, he'd thought he was doing this whole exhibitionism thing just to please a wicked little kink of Sammy's. The gift of bringing their relationship out of hands and mouths exploring in the dark under the sheets, of playing it straight all day and only touching in the red-and-blue light spilling through yet another motel window. Of no one ever seeing. Ever knowing.

Dean felt the wealth of eyes on them like a desert that long ago forgot the taste of rain drenched in a powerful storm.

Dean brought his hands down between Sam's thighs, curled under his ass, gently lifted him up until he was up on his shoulders, ass in the air. He brought his thumbs together, stroking Sam's tight rim, and spread Sam open.

"Oh god," Sam breathed.

Dean lowered his mouth, brushed his lips against Sam's center.

Somewhere, someone in the crowd moaned.

Dean parted his lips, those perfect lips, and licked a stripe over Sam's hole. Sam shivered. Dean licked across his entrance again, looking into Sam's face with such love it brought tears to Sam's eyes.

Sam brought his massive hands up, gripped his ass cheeks and gently spread himself open for Dean. Dean pressed his cheek against Sam's inner thigh. "Love you so goddamn much, baby boy." He licked into Sam again, deeper, lapping at him until the outer ring opened, revealing the beautifully pink, impossibly soft flesh just beneath. He sealed his mouth over Sam and sucked gently, tonguing at him, blinking his long eyelashes, his green eyes searching Sam's face, taking in every sign of pleasure.

Dean licked Sam open as though it was his first time, and he wanted it to be perfect for his baby. Long, soft strokes of his tongue, driving shivers and gasps and needy sounds out of Sam.

And oh, the sounds Sam made. Sam was noisy. But this was different. These sounds rose out of Sam like water from a newly dug well, spilled out of him like he would burst if he kept them inside. Soft moans, almost feminine in pitch. Helpless whimpers. Sounds that tried to be words but died, language failing. A surprised laugh, as if Sam didn't know that this plus that could feel so good. Rough groans that said in pure sound, "I can't believe what you're doing to me right now." Staccato cries as Dean's tongue grew bolder, drove deeper, licking inside him, eyes still locked on Sam's. Long sighs, Sam lost in the sight of that mouth of Dean's sealed over his entrance, those drop-dead gorgeous eyes watching him over his spread thighs, that tongue that Dean swiped over his lips a thousand times a day probing inside Sam's most intimate place—while people bore witness.

Dean lowered Sam's hips to the couch. Sam gripped Dean's shoulders and pulled him down, kissing him deep, showing everyone there was nothing Dean could do with Sam that was too much or too far.

"I need you, Sammy." This phrase, so hackneyed, overused into pale nothingness, had weight and fire and truth, in Dean's mouth.

The energy of the crowd was shifting, heightening, as they began to realize that things had swung from just a kinkybeautiful exhibition to something much deeper unfolding before their eyes.

Dean anointed himself, getting his cock slick. He didn't bother with working his fingers inside Sam. Sam didn't need it, already soft and licked open, and wanting Dean inside him so badly.

He moved between Sam's legs. He knew Sam's body so well, he didn't need to hold his cock steady with his hand so he could get just the right angle to enter Sam. He simply lined himself up, leaning over Sam, brought his lips to his brother's and slipped inside.

Sam's mouth fell open, pure wonder lighting up his face. He opened to Dean without a twitch of resistance, opened to Dean like he was born for this, born for Dean, like his body was Dean's refuge and he would never be refused entrance.

When Dean was all the way inside, he just stayed there, unmoving, lost in Sam's eyes. It was only when Sam made the softest of sounds that he stirred, rolling his hips, staying deep inside Sam, as though he was loathe to have even an inch of himself outside of Sam.

Sam rocked Dean inside him, holding him close, but gently. Dean moved inside Sam, every nerve ending alive. The gaze of the spectators felt like being bathed in light, dripping through their skin, lighting them up from the inside. Time skipped a beat, got lost, got drunk in a bar and stayed out all night.

Just Sam and Dean. Dean in Sam. Two bodies born of the same mother and father, so close to being the same flesh. Two souls originally one, able to see itself and explore itself once split into two, trying to fuse together again.

The men in the front stepped back, as though the heat of what they were witnessing was too intense.

After a moment without measure, Dean began moving faster. Sam cried out at the slow slick slide of Dean's cock inside him, thick and long, scraping against that secret pleasure center with each thrust. His cry sent a shiver through Dean, and suddenly Dean wanted to make his Sammy fall apart for him, wanted everyone to see the glorious sight of Sam coming for Dean.

Dean didn't speak. Couldn't speak. Not words in human language. He spoke in sound and touch, in what shone through his eyes. And Sam understood. He spread his strong thighs wider, cradled Dean's ass with his hands, urged him on with groans and panting breath and hungry kisses. And when Dean began to shudder, just about to tip over the edge, it was Sam who spoke. "Dean. Come inside me."

And something huge and important broke loose inside Dean, came roaring out of him, spilling not only out of his cock but his mouth and eyes and fingertips and chest, light and sound and air and pleasure and love and everything. Everything.

Sam shuddered beneath Dean, clenching around him, pushing up to take Dean inside him as deep as he could, powerful arms holding him tight as though trying to fuse his body into Dean's. The orgasm came from someplace deep inside, someplace so primal it had never been tapped before, not located in his cock alone, but everywhere. He came with his entire body. His entire soul.

The crowd stood, hushed and reverent, at the joining of the two men before them, shaking and gasping, past even the point of being able to be expressed by sound.

Finally, almost mercifully, the pleasure crested and ebbed.

Dean gave out a sob. Sam just trembled. They did not separate willingly. But eventually Dean's flesh cooled and contracted. When it slipped free, Sam whimpered.

Dean lay on his side and pulled Sam into his arms, stroking his hair.

No one made a sound.

Richard stirred, tears streaking his face. He walked quietly to a cabinet, and came back with a blanket. He shook it out and laid it over them with incredible gentleness.

A silver-haired man drew near and simply laid his hand on Dean's head, ever so lightly. Then he walked to the door and passed through.

Another man approached, touched Sam's shoulder, gently, almost reverently. Then he too left.

Not everyone dared to come near, to touch. But some did. Others simply touched the blanket covering them, like it was the hem of a holy man's garment.

A young man stood at their feet and signed the words, "Thank you" to them before he too left.

Eventually, there were only two men left. Richard, and a rough-faced man in working man's clothing.

Richard brought them a pitcher of water and a pint glass. Dean sat up and drank, and made Sam drink some too, and then sank back down into his arms.

"You can stay as long as you like. Until you're rested or sober enough to drive."

Dean frowned. He couldn't sleep. Too dangerous. But he still had too much bourbon in his system to drive, and he damn well wasn't going to leave Baby behind until he sobered up.

The sound of someone clearing his throat. "Give us a minute?"

Richard raised his eyebrows, and went out to the main club.

When Dean got a look at the man, he flinched.

"You remember me."

Dean stared. It was a hunter. Rayland something or other. One he remembered from a hunt several years back, when they'd teamed up with some local hunters to take out a nest of vampires. A really solid bunch of guys. Good people. Trustworthy hunters.

Rayland knew who they were. Knew they were brothers. Knew they were Sam and Dean Winchester.

"It's ok."

Thankfully, Sam was still floating in a blissful haze, entirely trusting of Dean to keep him safe.

"It's ok. I'd never breathe a word of this to a single soul." Rayland rubbed his mouth. "See… this thing between the two of you? It's not as rare as you'd think."

Dean looked at Rayland steadily. Remembering that hunt. Rayland and his older brother.

"You? And…?"

Rayland nodded. "Me and Jesse." He blew out a breath. "Christ that feels good to say out loud."

Dean and Rayland looked at each other, something passing between them.

"Most people wouldn't understand. But… you can't help who you love." Rayland gave a shy little smile.

Dean closed his eyes, almost undone by the wave of relief that hit him.

"I'll stand watch. Until you're ready to head home. All night if you need it. You saved Jesse's ass. Kept that vamp from eating him. I owe you."

Dean hardly knew what to say. "I'd appreciate that."

Rayland went through to the main club, and came back a moment later. "We're good. He'll stick around, let you out when you're ready. He'll leave us be in here." He rummaged behind the bar, and emerged with a box of rock salt. He laid down a thick line of salt at the door, then took up two pillows from the plush couch and brought them to Dean. "Figured this would help you sleep a little better."

Dean shook his head. Such a strange life they led. Someone must be looking out for them—at least sometimes.

He pulled Sam, warm and pliant, close and breathed in the scent of his shampoo, and settled a pillow under his head. The other pillow nestled under his own head, he pulled the warm blanket close over them, and allowed himself to drift into sleep.


End file.
